Naruto Roman Empire AU
Notes: A first attempt. This is going to take tonnes of research...
Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's.
An unintentional smile snuck onto Tobirama’s lips without him realising it, as he observed the Greeks debate their philosophy in the main square of Athens. The group of five had chosen to sit in a corner of the agora that was shaded from the sun. Some leaned against the great marble columns lining the periphery, others sat on the low walls that delimitated the streets. Before them, a burbling fountain added its own note to the discussion and cooled the air. Tobirama had his eye on one of the speakers in particular: a young man who seemed to have taken it upon himself to challenge the more experienced sophists.
The Senju had no idea what the topic was, he had forgotten most of the Greek he had been taught as a child due to lack of use and he could not discern their words well enough from how far away he was sitting, but that made no difference. He was fascinated by the white wool of the young man’s himation flying back and forth as he shook his arms, accentuating some finer point, and by the crease that settled between his eyebrows when he became particularly intent on delivering a certain argument. The man was passionate, the heat of Mars’ lust evident is his bright eyes, yet he kept it contained, maintaining a respectable distance from his elders and consistently waiting for his turn to speak - if not always very patiently. His ideas might not reach Tobirama’s ears, but the slap of his sandals on stone when he vented his frustration certainly did.
It was a war of words that the Senju Roman General was watching, a spectacle so familiar to him that if he closed his eyes he could believe himself back in Rome, in the house of his childhood and in his brother Hashirama’s company. He, too, had taken great pleasure in using his words to maximum effect, to playing with them and building complex structures hinged on abstract ideas that could talk a dog into giving up its favourite bone. These Greeks reminded him so much of his brother. It was an unexpected balm for his nostalgia.
Tobirama had been away from the city of his birth for many long years now, fighting the savage enemies of the great Roman Empire in the lands to the far east of the territory. With the coming of winter, the season for war had ended and he had taken his loyal army back to more gentler lands for a much needed respite from the wilderness.
He had come to Athens at his cousin Touka’s invitation. Although she was as much of a pure-blooded Roman as Tobirama, she had made a home for herself in the Hellenic capital. Since a good part of his soldiers hailed from Greece, accepting Touka’s hospitality offered both a convenient way to receive more detailed news of his family than the brief letters he occasionally received while out on campaign allowed, and to simultaneously give his men leave to reunite with their families. Touka had had an ulterior motive, of course. She had insisted that a general as influential as Tobirama simply could not be out waging war without consulting Apollo’s oracle, one of the most acclaimed in the civilized world for its reliability, and learn of what the gods had to say about his future.
Tobirama had yet to even see Touka and already he was convinced that he had chosen wisely to travel the distance. He had only paused in the agora to refresh himself and rest a little before going on to look for his cousin’s house, but the fiery spirit behind that young man’s distant Greek reaching his ears made him feel right at home.
He was looking forward to spending this winter in Athens.
Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's.
An unintentional smile snuck onto Tobirama’s lips without him realising it, as he observed the Greeks debate their philosophy in the main square of Athens. The group of five had chosen to sit in a corner of the agora that was shaded from the sun. Some leaned against the great marble columns lining the periphery, others sat on the low walls that delimitated the streets. Before them, a burbling fountain added its own note to the discussion and cooled the air. Tobirama had his eye on one of the speakers in particular: a young man who seemed to have taken it upon himself to challenge the more experienced sophists.
The Senju had no idea what the topic was, he had forgotten most of the Greek he had been taught as a child due to lack of use and he could not discern their words well enough from how far away he was sitting, but that made no difference. He was fascinated by the white wool of the young man’s himation flying back and forth as he shook his arms, accentuating some finer point, and by the crease that settled between his eyebrows when he became particularly intent on delivering a certain argument. The man was passionate, the heat of Mars’ lust evident is his bright eyes, yet he kept it contained, maintaining a respectable distance from his elders and consistently waiting for his turn to speak - if not always very patiently. His ideas might not reach Tobirama’s ears, but the slap of his sandals on stone when he vented his frustration certainly did.
It was a war of words that the Senju Roman General was watching, a spectacle so familiar to him that if he closed his eyes he could believe himself back in Rome, in the house of his childhood and in his brother Hashirama’s company. He, too, had taken great pleasure in using his words to maximum effect, to playing with them and building complex structures hinged on abstract ideas that could talk a dog into giving up its favourite bone. These Greeks reminded him so much of his brother. It was an unexpected balm for his nostalgia.
Tobirama had been away from the city of his birth for many long years now, fighting the savage enemies of the great Roman Empire in the lands to the far east of the territory. With the coming of winter, the season for war had ended and he had taken his loyal army back to more gentler lands for a much needed respite from the wilderness.
He had come to Athens at his cousin Touka’s invitation. Although she was as much of a pure-blooded Roman as Tobirama, she had made a home for herself in the Hellenic capital. Since a good part of his soldiers hailed from Greece, accepting Touka’s hospitality offered both a convenient way to receive more detailed news of his family than the brief letters he occasionally received while out on campaign allowed, and to simultaneously give his men leave to reunite with their families. Touka had had an ulterior motive, of course. She had insisted that a general as influential as Tobirama simply could not be out waging war without consulting Apollo’s oracle, one of the most acclaimed in the civilized world for its reliability, and learn of what the gods had to say about his future.
Tobirama had yet to even see Touka and already he was convinced that he had chosen wisely to travel the distance. He had only paused in the agora to refresh himself and rest a little before going on to look for his cousin’s house, but the fiery spirit behind that young man’s distant Greek reaching his ears made him feel right at home.
He was looking forward to spending this winter in Athens.